


stay with me

by nightfurious



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Sickfic, sain is wolt's dad, they are painfully awkward, this is pointless i just wanted to write Them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:06:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfurious/pseuds/nightfurious
Summary: There’s no way Roy would say something like that, not to him. It was the fever. It had to be the fever.
Relationships: Roy/Wolt (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	stay with me

**Author's Note:**

> this is essentially just another version of half the fics in the woy tag but i'm posting it anyway bc it's what they deserve
> 
> sain is wolt's dad bc i thought it'd be funny

The cloth was heavy in Wolt’s hand, much heavier than it should have been. Perhaps it was the fatigue weighing down his limbs, or the water dripping from the fabric that made it so; or perhaps it was the young, sleeping lion on the makeshift bed before him, whose forehead glistened where the cloth had once been. He knew the answer without having to ask himself, and he sighed for what felt like the millionth time as he turned away. 

Roy had pushed himself too hard again. He’d known he was, and Wolt had urged him to rest, but he refused, and it landed him here. Now, he couldn’t lead the army even if he was lucid enough to do so. The past day had been nothing but incoherent babbling between fitful naps, and Wolt’s heart burned in sympathy for his liege.

Water ran cool on his fingertips as he soaked the cloth again. He reached over to place it back on Roy’s forehead, and he could feel the heat radiating from his skin even after it made contact. Roy’s face scrunched in discomfort. His head lolled to the side facing Wolt, and his eyes cracked open, staring blankly at the wall. 

“Lord Roy?” Wolt said softly.

A few seconds passed before Roy blinked. His eyes finally seemed to focus, and they slowly tracked their way up to meet Wolt’s. He blinked again. “Wolt…?”

“I’m here, Lord Roy. How do you feel?”

Roy slid his arm across the sheets until he made contact with Wolt’s knee and weakly closed his fist around his pant leg. He smiled softly, in a way that made Wolt’s heart contract against his will, and said, “Glad you’re here…”

“Of course, Lord Roy.” He smiled back even as worry chewed at his stomach. “Hang in there. You’ll be better in no time.”

He gave a small hum, and his eyes fell shut again. Wolt sighed. He hadn’t gotten any better. Not yet, anyway.

Behind him, the door to the tent opened, and he turned just in time to recognize Sain as the door closed behind him, a familiar grin splitting his face. Wolt offered a weak smile in return as he approached. “Hello, Father. How has your visit been?”

It had been a while since he’d seen his father; the war had taken him far away from home, and Sain was often busy in Pherae caring for Rebecca and helping out wherever Eliwood needed. One special errand brought him close to the army’s current location, and he’d opted to pop in and surprise his son. It was, certainly, a surprise, but a welcome one. Tossing an apple between his hands, he started across the tent to stand next to Wolt. “The camp’s nice, but of course, I came for you, not the army. So? How’s our young lord doing?”

Wolt’s gaze fell, and he turned back to Roy, frowning. “He isn’t much better, I’m afraid. I feel useless here,” he said suddenly, emphatically, almost choking on the words. “I should have stopped him from getting to this state to begin with. Is there anything more I could be doing for him?”

If Sain was caught off guard by his outburst, he didn’t show it. “It isn’t your fault, Wolt,” he said softly. He placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Things like this happen sometimes, but he will recover. I think the best thing to do is simply keep him company.”

“I suppose, but I –” He stopped short and raked his palms across his face. He had to choose his words carefully. “The army… needs its commander. What would we do if we were attacked now?”

“I’m sure you are more than capable of defending Lord Roy, and Sir Marcus can lead the army. Don’t worry, son. He’ll be okay.”

Sain was right, of course, but it hardly eased the turmoil in Wolt’s heart. He glanced down to where Roy’s hand had fallen limp next to his knee. He had to make sure his lord recovered, and soon. It was his duty, after all.

He was reaching back for the cloth on Roy’s forehead when the door opened again, and Alen poked his head inside. “Wolt, Sir Marcus has asked to see you. He said it won’t take long.”

Wolt nodded, and Alen left. He glanced back at Roy, then up to Sain. “Well… I suppose I should…”

Sain grinned and gestured theatrically toward the door. “Don’t you worry, I’ll watch over him.”

He nodded and started to stand, but he was cut off by movement below him. “Wolt…?” rasped a small voice. Wolt’s heart skipped.

“Lord Roy!”

Roy was frowning at him, eyes focused but clouded. “Are you… leaving?”

“Ah… yes. But I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t go.”

He tensed. “I – what?”

Roy reached up with surprising strength and fumbled for Wolt’s wrist. “Don’t go… Please…”

“But – Lord Roy, I –”

He shook his head with enough force that the cloth on his head crumpled to the floor. When he looked up again, Wolt nearly leapt out of his skin at the tears welling up in his eyes. He reached up to hold Wolt’s wrist in both hands now and said, “Don’t – don’t leave me, Wolt, please… You’re already… so far…”

The words felt like a blow to the gut, and Wolt told himself it was only because they sounded so feeble. He fought for the right response, but his throat had gone dry.

Roy tugged weakly on his arm, and he gave into the pressure, landing on his palms. “Stay with me… Please…”

“Okay.”

He shouldn’t stay. He didn’t know why he’d said that, didn’t know why he wasn’t moving away now. He should leave and go find out what it was Marcus wanted; he knew he shouldn’t leave Marcus waiting. But more than that, he knew in his heart he could never deny Roy, especially not like this. 

Roy’s face lit up, and the glitter in his tearful eyes nearly blinded Wolt. All at once, his doubts vanished; Marcus could wait a while longer. Roy reached up and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him in, and he acquiesced, allowing himself to fall to the bed next to him. His face was probably the same temperature as Roy’s now, though for an entirely different reason. He positioned himself with his back to his sick lord, partially for his own protection but mostly so he couldn’t see his face. 

He felt Roy grab at the back of his shirt, and a heat he knew was Roy’s forehead pressed between his shoulder blades. “Please don’t go…”

“I won’t.”

“D’you promise?”

“I promise.”

“I love you…”

Wolt’s body seized.

Alright, that didn’t happen. That… had to have been his imagination. There’s no way Roy would say something like that, not to him. It was the fever. It had to be the fever.

From somewhere above him, someone choked.

Wolt flinched and suddenly remembered that they were not, in fact, alone. His father’s face came back into view, eyebrows raised, that horrible smile plastered in place again. His eyes searched Wolt’s for several long seconds. If the ground could have opened and swallowed him whole, he would have appreciated it.

“Wolt.”

He tensed.

“I’ll go tell Sir Marcus you got held up. In the meantime – Lord Roy?”

Roy made a small noise.

“Take care of him.”

“I will,” Roy and Wolt said in unison.

Sain huffed a laugh, and Wolt caught his eye once more before he left, twinkling in a way he wasn’t sure he liked. He waited until he heard the tent flap fall closed again before finally allowing himself to relax. Fatigue dropped heavily into all of his limbs at once, and within seconds he found it an ordeal just to stay awake.

“Lord Roy, um…”

Roy made an exaggerating shushing noise, one hand reaching around to make the gesture, though he missed Wolt’s lips by a mile, hand suspended in midair. “Don’t worry, Wolt, I’ll take care of you. You… you can rest now.”

Wolt couldn’t help smiling at that. Roy’s hand moved to drape over his waist. “Alright… Thank you, milord.”

Roy hummed again as Wolt’s eyes finally fell closed. Just before he drifted away, he thought he heard another “I love you” whispered from behind him. It was probably just his imagination again.

///

It took Roy two days to become well enough to leave his tent. Wolt was glad to see him about camp again, though that meant he could no longer avoid thinking about what had transpired between them. When he’d woken up in his lord’s arms – alone, thank the gods – he’d promptly panicked and hurriedly excused himself, and since then he’d been trying to forget it ever happened, to no avail, even as he forced himself to carry on his duties. His father had watched with a knowing spark in his eye as Wolt sat at Roy’s bedside again. He ignored him.

But now, Roy was capable of conversation. Thankfully, he seemed to have almost no memory of his fevered ramblings. Wolt almost latched onto that excuse to simply forget about it.

Sain, however, would have none of it.

Now that their leader had recovered, the army was preparing to move again, and father and son were helping to disassemble camp. Sain gracefully waited until the two of them were a fair distance from anyone else before saying, “So, when’s the wedding?”

Wolt stumbled over his own foot. “When’s – _Father!_ ”

He whipped around to face him, but Sain only grinned in response. Ears burning, he turned his eyes to the ground, covering his face with one hand. He took a deep breath. “Well, I – I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, but, uh, nothing happened. Nothing… at all.”

“Oh, my dear Wolt. You can put it off as much as you want, but it’s clear as day that you love him.”

Wolt inhaled sharply, his heart clenching painfully. It was one thing to know it himself, but hearing the words spoken aloud was something else entirely.

“Hit the nail on the head, did I?” Sain laughed. Wolt glared at him, but it was a pathetic effort, since his face was still on fire. 

“What does it matter anyway?” he seethed, turning back to his work. “He’s the most important person in Lycia right now; he is royalty, and I am his retainer. There’s simply no way it would work.”

“Oh, so what? Love’s a powerful thing, and it always finds a way. In fact, you probably have a better chance with him than most. You two have been holding hands since you learned you had them.”

“That… is over now.” The words caught painfully in his throat, his voice a near croak. He could feel Sain's eyes boring into him, but he kept his eyes trained down. “I must do my duty. I cannot let my – these _feelings_ get in the way. I will not force him to bear this burden."

“It seems to me it wasn’t your choice to make. As I’m sure you’ll recall, he’s already said he loved you."

And it felt like a dream. Wolt could remember those words now, drifting lazily through his mind, filling every corner of him with a warmth unlike any he'd ever known. He'd wanted to hear his lord say that for years, and to hear it again would be more than he deserved.

"He didn't mean it," he said instead. "The fever did not have him in his right mind."

A heavy silence fell between them. Still Wolt refused to look at Sain, trying his best to busy himself.

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re trying to escape,” Sain said finally. “Is that really what you think?" 

"I know it's true."

"Why don't you ask him?" 

Wolt froze, then finally whirled around to face him. "I couldn't possibly! I'm sure he doesn't even remember having said it, and if I bring it up, I'll only make it obvious that I –" He cut himself off and took a resetting breath. "There is nothing to ask about. I don't know what made him say _that_ , but I'm sure it was only the fever. It isn't important."

"Wolt?" 

The voice that answered was not his father’s. If it were possible for a word to send Wolt's spirit careening from his body, it would have been at that instant.

Somehow, simultaneously, the blood drained from his face as his body temperature seemed to rise several degrees. He whirled on his heel, praying he was wrong, only to come face-to-face with the last person he wanted to involve in this particular conversation. "Ah – Lord Roy! How, um, how are you feeling?" 

Roy offered him a small, rather hesitant smile. He was still pale, but he had improved tremendously from his bedridden state of the past few days. "I'm much better, and I have you to thank for that. So, thank you."

Wolt forced a smile and nodded stiffly.

"I'm sorry for this, but I couldn't help overhearing what you said, and, ah… did I say something while incapacitated that upset you?"

"Upset? Oh, no, certainly not, milord!" 

Roy's smile faltered at the title, and Wolt nearly winced. He pressed on.

"It was only a passing comment that didn’t make a lot of sense. It was far from upsetting, merely confusing."

Roy nodded slowly. "In that case, I'm glad.” A brief silence fell, in which Wolt wondered whether his lord would entertain a change of subject, but he continued, “Would it be alright if I asked what it was?" 

_No_ was Wolt's initial reaction. He managed to bite it back in time, but his mind went horrifically blank of any other response, and panic seized him with force. He impulsively glanced behind him for any trace of moral support, only to realize his father had long since disappeared. "Uh…"

"It's ok if you'd rather not!" Roy said quickly. "I don't know what it was, but if it makes you uncomfortable to repeat, then -" 

" ‘I love you,’ " he blurted out.

Roy froze. In an instant, his face flushed nearly as red as his hair, and Wolt knew from the heat prickling in his own cheeks he was the same. "Uh – pardon?" 

"That – that was what you said. You, uh, said you loved me." His voice got quieter as he spoke until he was nearly inaudible. Suddenly the ground was far more interesting than his lord's face. 

"I… see. I – I understand how that was confusing…"

_But I love you, too._

He could never say it. It was far too tall a hurdle, a line he had drawn for himself that he must never cross. He had driven a wedge between them on purpose in an effort to protect Roy, his liege, his love, his best friend in the whole world, from him. From this burden that Wolt would never force him to carry. 

Even so, when next he spoke, he heard his own voice from somewhere far away. "Milord, um… did you mean it?"

The title tasted like dirt in his mouth. It didn't belong, and both of them knew it, just as they knew the sky was blue, but Wolt held back. He pushed himself away for so long, convincing himself that he could never be more than a servant to Roy, that the years they grew up together could never mean anything because Roy was born to the marquess and he was not. He didn't want to fight it; in his heart, he wanted nothing more than to stand by Roy’s side as his friend – or more, if he was lucky – for the rest of their lives. 

Now, he allowed himself to hope for what felt like the first time in years. Maybe, now, if the look in Roy's eyes meant anything, he'd wouldn’t have to run anymore.

Roy stood frozen for several seconds before exhaling shakily. He glanced around nervously, then murmured, “I… apologize, Wolt. You weren’t meant to find out in such a way.”

Wolt’s mind reeled like he’d been slapped. Roy looked so nervous, so vulnerable, and he should never look like that, not while Wolt could do anything about it. His confession was on the tip of his tongue, so desperate to be heard, but what actually came out was, “But, milord… I thought you were angry with me.”

“Of course, I was!”

Surprised, Wolt took a half-step back at the intensity of his words, but he wasn’t done.

“We used to be so close, Wolt, we were best friends. But now, it’s like we never knew each other at all. I know you want to follow the rules, but I don’t care about them! You’re my friend before my retainer, a servant to my family, anything else. I just want you to stop treating yourself like you’re inferior. At the very least, just… stop with the ‘lord’ nonsense, please.” By the time he finished, his voice had dropped to a near whisper, and he wouldn’t meet Wolt’s eyes, looking very much like a kicked puppy.

Wolt felt his heart tear in half at the sight. He fumbled for something, anything to say, but nothing sounded right. Finally, Roy sighed, and continued, “If you’ve no response, please forget this conversation happened. If you’re so determined to make serving me your life’s purpose, that is all I ask.”

With that, he turned to leave, and at the sight of his lord’s retreating back, Wolt decided to give up. His arm shot out to catch Roy’s wrist before he could even think.

“Please, stop, mil– _Roy_. Please.”

He couldn’t look Roy in the eye, didn’t want to see his reaction, but he heard a gasp, felt Roy’s arm tense up. His heart’s maniacal beat in his throat threatened to cut him off again, but he forced himself to speak. “I’m sorry. Believe me, I never wanted to hurt you. I… I wanted to do my duty properly. I needed to protect you, not just from enemies, but from myself, as well, and my – _feelings_ , and – I’m sorry, I – I –”

Oh, this was it. His heart was going to give out on him here, before he’d even managed to spit out the words he’d held inside for so long. This was going to be the end of him.

Roy didn’t move. Wolt took a trembling breath, his eyes beginning to burn, and the words tore at his throat as he shouted, “I – I’m in love with you!”

 _Ah._ That came out far louder than he’d intended. 

A suffocating silence settled over them. Then, “Wolt, I said you could forget about it. Please don’t force yourself.”

“What?” He whipped his head up, but Roy wouldn’t meet his gaze. “No, no, I’m not just saying this! I've – felt like _this_ for so long, but I was always so afraid to say it. I didn't want to make you hate me, or – or distract you from your work – I'm supposed to be your retainer, but I've always been your friend, and I just wanted you to be happy." _And I didn't think I was important for that._ "Please, Roy, believe me. I never – I never thought –" 

He was just rambling now, and he knew it. The floodgates had been opened, and disaster followed. He should probably just give up now; after that, it'd be better to go back to being a servant, or better yet, banish himself to Ilia, where Roy would never have to see him again.

"Wait, you – you're serious?"

Roy finally turned to face him, and– _Is he crying?_

"Yes, of course!"

_Oh. He's definitely crying._

Wolt barely had time to react before something slammed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet, and then he realized it was Roy, and he was hugging him, and he was crying, they both were. Something about the contact made the tension drain from his body in an instant, and as he wrapped his arms around his friend – around _Roy_ , whatever he wanted to be to him – it felt like a missing piece had been slotted into his heart, and everything was right with the world. Nothing else existed besides them; the war was over, Pherae was far away, their camp was gone, and it didn't matter anymore if anyone saw them, because that was a problem for another time. All that mattered was this, their touch and words and hearts beating together. 

Roy was the first to break the spell, pushing them apart but refusing to let go. He cast a furtive glance around them, then chuckled as though in disbelief. One of his hands slid down to hold Wolt’s hand while the other reached up to wipe his own tears. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “for not believing you. But, especially now, I don’t want you to just live your life for me. Please, Wolt,” he added, a desperate look entering his eyes. “Would you just be my friend again, rather than my retainer?”

 _Yes. Of course. Anything you want. No need to ask._ But Wolt held those responses back, thinking on Roy’s words. Finally, he squeezed Roy’s hand, took a deep breath, and said with a smile, “I… think I’d like to be more.”

There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to ask if this was real, make sure Roy was still feeling okay, make sure _any_ of this was okay. He wanted to tell him everything, scream to the world about everything he’d felt for the longest time, everything he felt now, and most of all, _I love you, I love you, thank you_ – but the words didn’t come. It was probably better that way.

His grip on Roy’s hand was so tight, he worried it was hurting him, but he tried to funnel his emotions into the contact, because it seemed the best way to convey them. If Roy was in pain, he didn’t show it; instead, he grinned widely, his whole face lighting up in a way Wolt hadn’t seen in weeks, and squeezed back. “I’d like that,” he said. “In fact, nothing would make me happier.”

And, because Wolt’s heart hadn’t been through enough already, he added softly, “I love you,” and Wolt melted.

This time, it definitely wasn’t his imagination.

**Author's Note:**

> :pleading_face: i hope you liked it!! please drop a comment and i'll die for you instantly (const criticism is always welcome but please be gentle i'm baby)


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